Revenge
by Queen of Crystallopia
Summary: Set after the events of Homecoming. Peter learns that Vultures never forgive or forget, and when an enemy knows your identity, you are never safe.
1. Chapter 1

**_Set after the events of Spider-man: Homecoming_**

* * *

 _Almost home. Have you started the Spanish homework yet?_

I send off the text to Ned and adjust the strap of my backpack that had begun to slip off my shoulder. I enter the apartment complex and head for the stairs. My phone vibrates in my hand, and I look down to read Ned's reply.

 _Yeah. It's super easy. How was patrol? Anything good?_

 _I saved a cat that was stuck in a tree._

Ned's response is three laughing emojis, followed by a cat. I snort as I head up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

 _Dude, seriously?_

 _Seriously. Scratched the hell out of me too._ I examine my still stinging forearm, and groan to see that small dots of blood have stained my plaid button up shirt I'm wearing over a t-shirt that says "Never trust an atom, they make up everything". Shit. Aunt May's going to kill me. Maybe I can play it off as ketchup from lunch today.

I'm almost at our landing, and my nose picks up the smell of smoke. I wince. May's burning something again. I reach our floor and head down the hall, slipping my phone into my pocket before I enter our apartment.

"Hey, May," I call as I close the door behind me. I let my backpack fall from my shoulder and head for the kitchen. She isn't there, but a large covered pot is on the stove, smoke leaking out from beneath the lid. I turn the burner off and grab the take out menu.

"May?" I call again, and turn to face the living room.

I freeze.

Months ago, I had walked into our apartment and seen May sitting with a stranger on our couch. Except the stranger happened to be Tony Stark, who recruited me to fight in Germany, and built me my suit.

I am struck by the parallels as I take in May seated on the sofa, her back ramrod straight, her face pale and eyes wide. The stranger on the couch is definitely not Tony Stark. It's no stranger at all.

It's Adrian Toomes.

He grins up at me, taking a sip of coffee from my Aunt's favorite mug. "Hey there, Pedro."

Holy _shit_.

My mind scrambles to catch up, to process and understand that Adrian Toomes, AKA the Vulture, the man who tried to kill me multiple times, is in my living room. He's here, when he should be locked up in a cell far away.

I flash back to that moment where I am standing on Liz's doorstep, and Toomes opens the door. It was like a kick to the chest, my horror and shock had hit me so severely. This is infinitely worse. Because it isn't just my identity, my life, in jeopardy. It's May's.

My eyes flick to my Aunt's, and the terror I see in her eyes sends a jolt to my core. I know her, I know that her worry isn't fear for her life, but for mine. Her hands clench and unclench in her lap.

"Your Aunt and I were just getting acquainted," Toomes says, something dangerous glinting in his gaze. My body is rigid, tense and alert, like the prey that senses a predator nearby. "Quite the spitfire, isn't she? Terrible at making coffee though. No offense."

May's head snaps back to him, and her lips part to no doubt rip him a new one.

"How'd you escape?" I ask quickly before she can speak.

"You're not the only one with friends in high places, kid," Toomes replies and sets down his coffee. I catch a gleam of metal underneath his jacket as his body shifts from the movement, and my stomach tightens in response. Knowing him, that is no ordinary gun.

"What do you want?" I demand through clenched teeth even though I already know. His promise in that car in front of the school is ringing in my ears. I wish suddenly, desperately for the familiar weight of my web shooters on my wrists, but my suit is buried beneath textbooks in my backpack by the door. There's no way I can reach it in time.

"I think we both know why I'm here, Pete," Toomes's voice is low, gravelly, and my heart thunders in my chest at the murderous intent I can see in every inch of his face. "I warned you. I gave you every opportunity, but you couldn't let it go, could you? It's a shame. Clearly, family doesn't mean as much to you as it does me."

"Mr. Toomes," I begin, my hands raising, palms out. "Think of Liz. Think of your wife. What is it going to do to them if you become a murderer? Liz-"

"Don't you say her name again," Toomes growls viciously, his expression lethal, "Don't talk about my family, when you obviously don't give _two shits_ about your own. If you did, I wouldn't be here, would I?"

My senses are going haywire, sending alarm bells down each one of my fractured nerves.

"You ruined everything for me and my family. You tore us apart," his voice shakes with the force of his rage. "That's not something I can forgive, and I certainly can't forget. So you're going to watch me kill your Aunt. And then I'm going to end you, Peter."

I can see his muscles coil, ready to move in seconds, and I see how the scene will play out in my mind. Toomes will stand, pull the gun from his jacket, and shoot May right there on the couch.

No. _No_.

I move right as he does, leaping up and forward, my hands latching onto the ceiling fan. Both my feet slam into his chest as he rises, his hand moving beneath his coat, and his body goes flying into the wall. Toomes lets out a grunt of pain as the impact cracks the plaster.

I have already seized May by the hand, and we are tearing out of the apartment. All I can think about is getting her out, getting her safe.

Toomes lets out a savage roar as I slam the door shut behind us, and we sprint for the elevator. Her grip on my hand is almost painfully tight, and her chest is heaving with panic. " _Peter_ -"

Steps from the elevator, there is a massive screeching sound that scrapes against my eardrums like vicious talons, and then a blast of heat blooms against my back. I glance behind us, at the carnage of our completely shattered door in pieces on the burning hallway floor.

 _Get May out, get May out, get May out-_

I skid to a halt and shove my terrified Aunt into the elevator, wincing as she falls to her hands and knees from the force. I lunge for the button, and the doors begin to close. Quickly, I toss my phone inside with her as she whirls, scrambling to her feet. Her face is horrified, her eyes wide with panic. " _PETER_!" she screeches, lurching forward to stop the elevator doors from closing.

"I'm sorry, May!" I tell her just as they slam shut between us with a ding, and the elevator descends.

The back of my neck prickles violently, and my spider-sense jolts through my body so quickly, I spin. Toomes is standing at the edge of the hall, blood trickling from a scratch on his temple, the alien weapon aimed straight at me.


	2. Chapter 2

I am frozen with indecision, though all my senses and instincts are telling me to just _move_ , damn it! But if that weapon blasts through the elevator doors like it did the front door to our apartment, it could take out the cables holding it up, and May's elevator would go plummeting to the ground floor.

 _But if you keep standing there like an idiot, you're going to get blown up too. So get it together, and move, Parker!_

A sharp alarm suddenly blares through the hallway, slamming into my sensitive eardrums, and sprinklers shoot down and begin to pour water everywhere, diminishing the fire still burning down at the end of the hall.

Toomes's eyes widen as doors down the hallway begin to burst open, and disgruntled, panicking New Yorkers begin pouring out, blocking his shot at me. My gaze is locked on his past the throng of people, his glare promising a painful death.

A tall man dressed in nothing but a bathrobe knocks into me in his haste to get to the stairs. "Get out of the way, you idiot!" he hisses as I stumble into someone else.

"Sorry," I say automatically, turning back to look at Toomes.

Except he's gone.

A thrill of fear shudders down my spine. Where the hell did he go? I scan the faces of the people passing me, but now all I see is Mrs. Gordon from two doors down, and Reggie from across the hall, hurrying past to join the majority now on the stairwell.

I can't endanger all these people. I can't follow them and lead Toomes back to Aunt May. What I need is my suit.

I press against the wall, now completely drenched by the sprinklers still dousing the hallway with icy cold water. I can feel it drip down my neck, sending shivers and goose bumps across my skin. Toomes must have ducked into one of the many apartments lining the hall, their doors still wide open in their occupants haste to evacuate the building.

Letting out a shaky breath, I scan the doorways for movement, wishing the alarm would just shut off already. I see no sign of him, and decide I have to risk it. Once I get my web shooters, I can pin down Toomes long enough for me to disarm him, and for hopefully the police to arrive.

I wait a heartbeat, then I am moving, not running down the water slicked carpet, but leaping up and clinging to the ceiling, crawling as quickly and as quietly as I can. My eyes dart to every passing doorway as I inch down the hall, my panic rising with every empty threshold.

 _Where the hell is he?_

I'm three doors way from mine when warning flares at the base of my skull. I immediately drop, landing in a crouch in the drenched carpet just as there is another screeching sound, and blue light fills the hallway. The ceiling explodes right where I had been just seconds before, and I fling myself to the side as debris and chunks of ceiling rain down on me.

I whirl, Toomes emerging from one of the doorways I passed, just as he takes aim again.

"Hold still, you little bastard!" he snarls, pulling the trigger.

I lunge for the nearest open apartment just as he fires again. Blue light explodes behind me, the force shaking the floor beneath my feet, and I am running through the apartment's kitchen to get to the bedroom beyond. I burst through the door, slamming it shut behind me, and leap over the mass of barbies and stuffed animals strewn across the floor to land on the pink flowered bed by the window.

I shove it open, poking my head out, and am relieved to see people only just beginning to pour out of the building. No one is looking up, and I hurriedly slip out the window, clinging to the brick walls with my fingertips, and leap for the nearest section of the building jutting out.

I risk another quick glance, but mercifully, people are too busy shoving each other out of the way to notice me sticking to the walls, and I slip silently into my bedroom window.

My heart pounds violently in my chest, and I struggle to keep my breathing quiet and even. My ears strain to hear anything past the fire alarm and the splashing of water, but they detect nothing else.

I swallow, my throat dry as I ease forward into my room, staying as quiet as I can.

 _You can do this, Peter. Just get your backpack. Get your web shooters, and everything will be fine._

My hand grasps the cool metal doorknob, slowly twisting it and opening the door just a crack.

I peer out, seeing just a glimpse of the kitchen and the empty doorway leading to the outer hall. No Toomes in sight. Not even daring to breathe, I pull the door open and slip out, my eyes darting every which way, but I am alone.

I rush forward, spying my fallen backpack just beside the doorway. Hope leaps in my chest as I slide to a halt beside it, crouching down to rip it open and rifle through my books. _Come on, come on!_ I scream mentally as I dig through it faster, my fingers scrambling for the familiar material.

"Looking for this?"

My head jerks up, eyes widening as Toomes towers over me, gun in one hand, my suit in the other. Pain explodes in my temple as he slams the gun into the side of my head. I fall back onto the floor with a yelp, trying and failing to blink away the gray spots blinking all over my vision as agony pulses through my skull.

 _Don't pass out, don't pass out, don't pass out!_

I hear a hiss of fabric as Toomes drops my suit to the ground and stalks forward. I push myself to my hands and knees, swaying dizzily as I try to reorient myself, but his boot crashes into my side with sudden ferocity. Pain splinters through me, driving the air from my lungs as the force sends me rolling across my living room floor.

I blink away the gray spots, blurry objects finally beginning to emerge in my vision as I choke and gasp for air. Alarm blares through me, and without fully knowing what I am doing, my hands shoot up to grasp the barrel of the gun that had been aiming for my chest. I shove it upwards just as Toomes fires, and I can feel the weapon shaking as blue light blasts from it into my ceiling.

Toomes tries to wrench it away, but I'm on my feet now, my grip on it tight as we struggle to gain control of the gun. It's still firing, the heat from the blast of pure energy searing my face, my shoulders. Debris is raining down around us, and I grit my teeth, grunting as I hang on for dear life.

Toomes's face is awash in the blue light, his eyes wide and crazed. I release my grip on the weapon suddenly, and he stumbles back from the unexpected momentum. I slam my fist into his face, internally cringing at the crack that makes him drop the gun with a cry of pain. It clatters to the floor, shutting off abruptly.

I leap back as Toomes comes swinging at me, roaring in his anger.

"Stop!" I shout as I dodge another blow and roll across the kitchen island to put distance between us. "It's over! You have to stop!"

"It's not over until you're _dead_ ," Toomes hisses, looking entirely unhinged as he yanks a wicked looking knife from his belt.

My eyes widen as he lunges, faster than I expect. I stumble backwards, my back hitting the fridge, and my hands shoot up to wrap around his wrist just as he brings the knife down. It stops inches from my chest, and I have to use all my strength to keep it from driving into my heart. Toomes shoves with all his might, putting the entirety of his weight into shoving the knife straight through me. Both of us are trembling, grunting from the strain.

There's a glint of red and gold, and suddenly Toomes is wrenched away from me. I gasp from the sudden release of pressure, then gape as Iron-man twists Toomes's wrist in a violent move that has the man yelling in pain and dropping the knife.

Tony's voice speaks then, muffled and metallic from the suit. "You and I are going to have words about touching things that don't belong to you."

Then he slams Toomes's head into the wall, and the man crumples in a heap on the ground.

Iron-man turns, and I am staring, wide eyed, open mouthed, trying desperately to catch my breath and to process what just happened.

"You okay, kid?"

I nod, then say, "Y-yeah. Yes. I-I think so."

"F.R.I.D.A.Y scan for injuries."

I flinch as a red light emerges from the suits shoulder and washes over me. F.R.I.D.A.Y's automated voice reports, "Minor concussion, bruising, and a facial laceration that will need stitches."

My fingers fly up to my temple where Toomes hit me, and when I bring them in front of my face they are dripping with blood. A thought slams into me.

"Aunt May! Is she-"

"She's okay. Well, she's frightened out of her wits at the moment, but Happy's with her just down the street. It apparently was not easy corralling that woman into a vehicle while you were up here gallivanting with psychopaths."

"I wasn't gallivanting. I was-"

"She's going to be incredibly pissed at you when she calms down, by the way. Shoving her into the elevator? Smart move, but entirely unforgivable in her eyes, I'd imagine. Like sticking a hell cat into a bathtub and locking the door."

I wince. I'll never regret doing what I need to protect her, but I can already imagine the lecture, the tears, the _grounding_ …

"Oh, and by the way," Tony's voice changes, sounding incredibly pissed himself. "Neglecting to tell me that a very dangerous man knows your _identity_? Bad move."

I gesture to Toomes. "H-he was locked up! I thou-"

"No, you didn't think. Didn't think that that was important information that maybe I should know," Iron-man moves closer to me. "Didn't think that a bad guy like him might tell a prison _full_ of bad guys that kind of information, bad guys who have people on the outside who could come after you."

I stare at him, horrified.

Tony sighs. "As far as I know, Toomes didn't tell anyone, and right now, no one else got hurt besides you. And, well, your apartment. I don't think your star wars posters are going to cover up the gaping hole in the ceiling."

I flinch as I survey the devastation around us. My stomach falls somewhere beneath my feet. I brought this here, brought _him_ here, to our home, to _May_. The guilt is overwhelming.

"Hey," Iron-man clasps a hand on my shoulder. "Don't make that face. It's-"

But I stop listening, because just behind him, I can see Toomes watching us from where he is sitting on the floor, something small in his hands, and a satisfied smirk on his face. My eyes widen as he clicks whatever it is, and something bursts through the ceiling in an explosion of plaster and brick.

I dive down, throwing my hands over my head, and I can hear Iron-man's repulsor rays blasting off and a terrible metallic screech. I lift my eyes.

The fight is a blur as Iron-man takes on the Vulture's razor sharp wings of his mechanized suit in my impossibly small apartment. I look for Toomes, but he is no longer leaning against the kitchen wall, or inside the suit itself.

I crawl forward, staying low to the ground and flattening my body when my couch goes flying over my head. As I inch around the kitchen island, my heart stops as I see Toomes in the corner, picking up the fallen weapon, and aiming it directly at Iron-man. The metal wings are lunging forward to pierce through Iron-man's suit, but Tony seizes them in his gauntlets with a grunt, and blasts the center of the mechanized suit with the repulsor beam from his chest, not realizing the danger behind him.

"Mr. Stark! Look out!" I shout, but it's too late.

Toomes fires the gun, and the blue crackling energy slams into Iron-man's back with a crack like thunder, blasting a hole straight through him.

* * *

 **SO...I hope that by posting two chapters in one day that I will be forgiven for the cliffhangers on each! No? Oh. Boo. Lol. Thanks to PippinStrange for your awesome review, and your most recent chapter in your amazing story! I can't wait for more!**


	3. Chapter 3

Time seems to stop.

Did a bomb go off? My ears are ringing, making all other sounds muffled and distant, and my heart seems to have trouble starting again. It pounds sluggishly at first. Then, as my wide eyes take in the sight before me, and my brain begins to process the image, the beat of my heart increases into a painfully rapid gallop.

No.

NO.

 _Please_ , no.

Iron-man is face down on the carpet. He isn't moving.

That blast of energy from Toomes's gun, I saw it go _through_ him, go through that reinforced metal like it was nothing.

 _No one can survive a shot like that_ , a voice whispers in my head.

Oh god, _Tony_.

My large, wet eyes can't look away from him, and suddenly I am crawling forward, dragging my heavy body forward as fast as I can.

I don't care that Toomes is still in the room. I don't care that he is armed, and could kill me any moment. I have to get to Tony, I have to help him, I have to-

"No," my voice cracks as the word escapes my lips. "Mr. Stark-Tony…"

I reach the unmoving form and kneel above it.

My breath whooshes from my lungs in a rush of relief that hits me so hard, I have to fight back a laugh. A strangled sort of chuckles escapes me anyways.

The suit is empty.

There is a massive hole straight through it, smoldering at the edges, frayed wires sparking, but there's no blood, no body. Tony isn't here, was never here. He is safe somewhere, not here, not dead for me, because of me.

"Damn, ain't that a shame."

I whirl, and a rough hand seizes me by my throat, forcing me to my feet. Toomes is now inside his mechanized suit, his face hidden by the silver helmet with glowing green eyes.

"Wouldn't that have been something, huh? Killing Spiderman and Iron-man in one go. What a legacy it would have been. Guess I'll just have to settle for you, kid."

His hand constricts tightly, cutting off any and all air. A strangled sound escapes me as I gape for air, my hands automatically scrabbling at his fingers. It is difficult to fight the panic. _Can't breathe, can't breathe_ \- and _god_ , my chest is on _fire_.

"You know, I've dropped you from a thousand feet in the air, I collapsed an entire _building_ on top of you, and still you managed to crawl your way back out. You're more like a cockroach than a spider. Guess the only way to make sure you stay dead, is to wring your scrawny neck, and then leave your head for Tony Stark to find," Toomes's muffled voice is filled with savage satisfaction.

I grit my teeth, my fingers finally finding purchase on Toomes's hand around my throat. I've stopped a bus with my bare hands. I've lifted an entire building off of my back, and changed the direction of a crashing, burning airplane.

I am stronger than him, and I've had enough.

With a hoarse roar, I pry off his hand, wrenching it away in a sudden movement. I hear a loud snap, and Toomes bellows in pain, stumbling back and clutching his injured wrist. I seize the arm chair next to me, which is somehow miraculously still in one piece, and slam it into him as hard as I can.

It shatters in chunks of wood, the force of the blow sending him careening back, his metal wings spread wide to prevent him from falling completely. They catch on the walls as he stumbles into the doorway to my bedroom. I run forward, leaping into the air to deliver a harsh kick into his chest. Toomes lets out a cry of pain as those wings fold forward, and he falls backwards into my room.

I pant, standing over him, my fingers curled into fists. I charge forward, ready to rip that helmet off of him and knock him into unconsciousness. My spidey-senses flare with warning, but I am too slow. Those wings lash out at me, the right one catching me on my shoulder and piercing through as it sends me flying back into my demolished living room. I land on my back, my already aching head knocking into what is left of the Iron-man suit.

Grunting in pain, I raise myself up, ready to dodge another attack, but Toomes isn't advancing. Instead, he's using those monstrous wings to shatter my bedroom window and rip a massive hole into the wall.

He glances back at me, those glowing green eyes narrowing.

"What was it your friend Tony said? That your pretty little Aunt was just down the street? I'd nearly forgotten about her, and I wouldn't want her to miss this," Toomes's growls murderously.

My insides clench, my stomach lurches with panic, but before I can even blink, Toomes is gone.

No, no, no!

I know I won't make it in time, not as Peter Parker, so instead of racing for the window, I am sprinting for my suit, still lying in the doorway to our apartment. I yank the loose material on over my clothes, and as I turn and charge towards my bedroom, I slam my hand onto the icon on my chest. The suit tightens around me, and I just have time to tug the mask over my face before I leap out into the open air.

I fire off a web, watching it stretch to the closest street light. It catches, and I am swinging forward, building up speed. The people below are shouting, crying out.

Then May's screams rip through the air, rip through my chest.

The Vulture is just above the sleek black car on the street, his talons ripping apart the roof like it is made of nothing but aluminum.

My body is swinging faster, reaching the top of the arc, and I release the web, flipping in the air once before diving forward. I tackle Toomes, my arms wrapping around his middle as my right shoulder hits the small of his back.

As we slam into the street, I release my grip on him and use the momentum to fly forward and land feet away from him in a crouch.

Toomes is already on his feet, growling, and then he is surging for me, the razor sharp feathers of those mechanized wings glinting in the streetlight. I bend backwards, my head nearly touching the asphalt as I dodge the swipe of a wing, then flip to the side as talons bear down to seize me.

His attacks are swift, brutal, relentless. Toomes is lost in his rage, in his madness, and it's getting harder for me to keep dodging.

I have to vault into the air, my body twisting, to avoid the next blow, but this time, the flat side of his right wing crashes into me, and I go flying. My body skids painfully onto the street, and I am suddenly grateful for the layers of clothes beneath my suit adding extra cushioning.

I am pushing myself up, but Toomes is already on me, talons digging into my shoulders with a painful crunch. I yell out in pain. I feel the wet, warm blood seeping around the metal points, sending pulses of agony down my arms and chest.

Toomes's wings flare, and I know he's about to take off into the air, but the night explodes with sound as a barrage of bullets slam into him. The mechanized wings curl around him instantly, protecting his body, and I can see sparks as the bullets hit. My hands are trying to pry the talons out of my shoulders, but I glance behind Toomes.

It's Happy, still near the wrecked car, his gun raised and his face fierce. May is just behind him, hands over her mouth, her eyes wide and glistening, staring directly at me in horror.

Toomes lets out another bellow of frustration, and then Happy's gun clicks.

Empty.

The talons rip suddenly free, tearing through my skin and muscles, making me cry out in pain, but Toomes is whirling, his sight set on Happy, trying to reload his gun, and my Aunt just behind him. Those wings flare again, and he charges at them.

"Karen," I breathe, shoving myself to my feet. "Taser webs!"

"Sure thing."

I fire twin strands of pulsing blue webbing straight at him, and they latch onto each of his wings. I yank back hard with a grunt, stopping his advance, and the high voltage is charging through the conductive metal of his wings. I can see the sparks and jolts of electricity coursing across those wings, across the mechanized frame of the suit, across his body.

Toomes body convulses as the sparks increase, and he screams through clenched teeth.

My muscles are shaking with the strain of holding him back, and I am panting, exhaustion starting to seep past the adrenaline coursing in my veins. Toomes quiets suddenly, his body going limp as he falls face forward onto the asphalt. I release the Taser webs immediately, staring at his unmoving form, sparks still flying off the back of his suit. For a heart stopping moment, I think I've killed him, that I held it too long, but then I see the gentle rise and fall of his back.

My shoulders sag with relief, and my eyes raise to meet my Aunt's. May is obviously struggling, her body doing this strange jerk forward and halting movement, her mouth opening and closing. She wants to run to me, wants to call out my name and seize me in a painful hug, but doing so would give away my identity, so she is trying to force herself to remain still by Happy's side.

I look at Happy, who looks pale and unsettled, and he gives me a single nod.

I can feel the blood still seeping from the jagged wounds from his talons. Pain is pulsing down my shoulders, through my skull, and I all I want to do is hug May, to make sure she's ok and in one piece, and then pass out.

I take a single step forward before my senses flare in warning once more, and before I even have time to inhale, Toomes is flying at me, wings still sparking with electricity. May is screaming again, and I can hear Happy cursing violently as Toomes slams into me, his hands seizing me by the suit's material on my chest, and my stomach lurches, dropping beneath my feet as we soar straight up into the air.

" _Why won't you just die_?" he hisses, and I don't even have the breath to answer as we ascend at an insanely rapid pace.

I see his left wing rearing back suddenly, the razor sharp feathers poised straight for my throat.

A red and gold gauntlet seizes that wing and wrenches it back with a loud, metallic screech. Sparks shoot everywhere as Iron-man completely rips off one of Toomes's wings.

Then we are falling.

I feel Toomes's grip on me release, and my arms are flailing, automatically trying to find purchase where there is none.

Hard metal encased hands grip me suddenly beneath my armpits, and my stomach lurches violently at the sudden change in direction. I glance down to see a second Iron-man suit seize Toomes by the back of his jacket, then tear off the second wing in a brutal move. The wings slam into the rooftop of the apartment complex.

"Talk to me, kid."

"…H-how many… suits do you have, exactly?"

"Let's go with enough to save your skinny ass. You ok?"

I nod. "Yeah, I'm…good. M-might pass out though…I think I've lost…what did I-blood? Yeah, blood…some of that."

"We need to work on your definition of good there, Underoos."

His voice sounds different, and I glance up to see his face plate fall, and Tony's face is looking back at me. "Hey, y-you're you."

We are flying away from my apartment, and I briefly think of May and Happy still on the ground, but Tony's face is strained, his eyebrow raising, and I bring my focus back.

"What?" I ask.

"You hit your head a few times there, maybe?"

I nod, then wince at the pulsing pain that accompanies the movement. "I thought…thought he killed you."

"Please, kid, don't insult me. Like I would let anyone kill me in Queens of all places. God, that'd be a sad way to go, wouldn't it?"

His voice becomes muffled and slurred, like he's underwater. Or maybe I'm underwater. That's not good. Someone is banging on a drum, and it's loud in my ears, in my head, in my chest. They aren't doing a very good job. The beat is sluggish and drawn out.

I let myself drift away into the darkness.

* * *

 **Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to review! It means a lot, and I love to hear what you guys think! One more chapter to go! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

My body aches when I wake up, my shoulders the most, but my injuries are minor considering everything that happened, and my super healing has already kicked in.

I am unsurprised to see Aunt May by my bed when I come to in one of the medical rooms of the new Avengers compound. Taking in her pale face, the dark circles, her red rimmed eyes, I feel shame burning inside me like a bed of hot coals jammed inside my stomach.

"Hey," she says hoarsely, leaning towards me when she notices I am awake. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," I hurry to tell her. May's gaze is filled with suspicion. I insist, "Really, I'm fine. My shoulders are a little sore, but I've had worse."

That was the wrong thing to say. Crap. "I mean, no, not that I've had _worse_ , just that it isn't so bad. I promise. I can feel everything healing already."

She nods, momentarily appeased, then stares at me for a while, opening and closing her mouth. Then May shakes her head, like she can't decide what to say next. The silence draws on, and my anxiety rises with every tense second.

"I'm sorry," I blurt finally, sitting up in the bed. "Aunt May, I am so _so_ sorry! For everything, for letting him find out who I was, for not protecting you, for the apartment. I-I'll make it up to you, I promise! I'll drop out of school. Yeah! I'll, I'll work for Mr. Delmar at his new deli to help pay to fix everything."

My words seem to snap her out of her indecision.

May's voice is sharp as she says, "You will most certainly _not_ be dropping out of school," her hand raises when I try to interrupt. "No. No buts. You're staying in school and that's that."

Aunt May leans back into her chair, looking weary and suddenly…old, for the first time. I am nauseous with the weight of the knowledge that I am the cause of it. She sighs heavily, placing fingers on her temples.

"Peter," she begins, her gaze on her lap. When she raises her head, I see her eyes glistening with tears, and I feel my throat tighten and eyes burn in response. I can't help myself. Whenever Aunt May cries, I cry, and it's even worse because I am the reason she is crying. "Peter, honey, I don't know how to do this."

Her voice breaks as she continues. "I don't know how I am supposed to be okay with all of this," she gestures at the room around us. "I know I can't ask you to stop being Spiderman. I know I can't take that away from you. But that doesn't mean I don't want to. Peter, he almost _killed_ you. That man almost killed you right in front of me, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. I couldn't protect you. And you know what? That freaking _sucked_."

I blink rapidly, trying to stop the tears from falling, but warm tracks trail down my cheeks anyways. "I…I am so sorry, May."

I don't know what else to say. Part of me agrees with her. Part of me wants to put away the suit forever. For her sake. I had once told Tony that when you can do the things I do, and you don't, and bad things happen, they happen because of you. I meant that. My conscience couldn't rest knowing I could be helping people, saving them.

But this time, the bad things happened _because_ of the things I can do. And they happened to the one person in the world I want to protect more than anyone.

How have I messed up so badly?

"Stop apologizing," May leans forward, covering my hand with hers. "I wanna make something clear here, ok? There are things you should apologize for, and things you shouldn't. You don't get to apologize for some murderous psycho finding out who you are. And you don't get to apologize for him forcing his way into our home to kill you. Got that? Shit like that is not on you, it's on him."

I open my mouth to speak but she cuts me off with one of the more severe "mom" looks in her arsenal of facial expressions. "Things you most definitely _will_ be apologizing for," she holds up a finger. "Firstly, shoving me in the _effing elevator_. That noble self-sacrificing shit? Nuh-uh. Not gonna fly, buddy. As surrogate parent, that is my job, not yours. Secondly, for not running when you had the chance, and sticking around to try and take him on yourself while I called Mr. Stark. The next time someone is trying to kill you, and God knows there will probably be a next time, you will do your damn best to get the hell out of there, do you understand me?"

I nod, my eyes wide.

May sighs again and squeezes my hand. "Thirdly, for scaring the absolute crap out of me. I really think you gave me about fifty gray hairs."

"I only see like, twelve."

She narrows her eyes. "God you are so lucky you are injured, or I'd be smacking that sass right out of you."

I give her a shaky grin, which she returns, and then I wipe off any trace of tears from my face. "I love you," I tell her. "I don't deserve you."

"I love you too, Peter. And you deserve the best this damn world has to offer."

I disagree, but I don't tell her that. "You're okay?" I ask tentatively.

"I'm not hurt, if that's what you mean," May replies. "Okay is a relative term. It may be awhile before I am able to let you out of my sight again without freaking out. And I can tell you I am never, _ever_ trying to cook homemade chili again."

I blink at the seemingly random thought she had about chili of all things, then I recall the burning smell I detected on the stairwell, and the smoking pot on the stove when I discovered Toomes with her in our apartment. I wince. "Yeah, I can live with that."

* * *

I am lying on my back because of my still healing shoulders, and even though it is now four thirty six in the morning, I haven't slept at all. I am used to sleeping curled up on my side, or flat on my stomach with an arm dangling over the bed. I am also used to sleeping with the sounds of the city. Here, the room is filled with unfamiliar sounds; the rhythmic beating of the monitors nearby, the buzz of the dimmed fluorescent lights in the corner, the light snoring of my Aunt on the cushy couch against the wall.

I don't think it would have mattered though, even if I was able to sleep in my own bed without sharp, burning pain every time I move my arms or shift my back.

Because despite what my Aunt said, my guilt is still eating me alive.

My mind is on a constant loop, replaying not only the previous night's events in all their horrible clarity, but also the graphic imaginings of what could have happened.

He could have killed her.

He almost killed her.

Toomes would have shot Aunt May right there in our living room. He would have ripped apart the car she and Happy where in just to tear her apart with those talons, or drop her from a thousand feet up in the air.

All because of the choices I made.

I can't even pretend I am trying to sleep anymore. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and drop soundlessly to the floor, wincing at the throbbing pain in my shoulders. I glance at Aunt May, still fast asleep, and then head out of the room.

It's strange, walking through the Avenger's compound barefoot and alone at night, wearing nothing but sweats. The silence is deafening, and I keep my footsteps light on the slick tile.

My chest is tight with the heaviness of my anxiety. Walking, moving, seems to ease it slightly, but the silence still leaves me completely isolated with my thoughts.

 _"Don't talk about my family, when you obviously don't give two shits about your own. If you did, I wouldn't be here, would I?"_

 _"Clearly, family doesn't mean as much to you as it does me."_

 _"…you're going to watch me kill your Aunt."_

 _"PETER!"_

 _"…leave your head for Tony Stark to find."_

My fingers are lacing through my hair, yanking on their roots as I quicken my pace down the empty hall. I can't stop the echoes of my memories, can't stop replaying the worst moments; seeing Toomes on the couch with May, him rising, reaching for the gun, Toomes blasting a hole through the Iron-man suit when I thought Tony was still inside, the Vulture lunging for Aunt May…

I reach the end of the hall, and I find myself on the second floor landing, a glass walled railing separating me from the wide lobby below. I lean against it, trying to calm my queasy stomach.

What the hell are we going to do?

Because of me, Toomes completely demolished our apartment. The repairs on the building would likely take months, and I am positive most of our belongings are now dust. Had anyone gone to scavenge the remains of our things?

We were barely keeping afloat. May had been working as much as she could in order to keep up with the expenses of our apartment and my school, and things had still been tight. Now?

Oh god, I think I am actually going to throw up. It's going to really suck if I have to vomit over the edge onto the lobby floor. The thought of hunting down a mop in some closet somewhere and traipsing downstairs to the lobby to clean up my own puke is the only thing that prevents me from emptying my stomach.

"You know, green is more Bruce's color. It doesn't suit you, kid."

I jump, my head snapping to the side as Tony leans on the railing beside me. Wow. I must be super out of it if I hadn't heard or sensed him come up behind me.

I've never seen Tony Stark so casual. He's wearing a Black Sabbath t-shirt and a pair of comfortable looking, but no doubt incredibly expensive sweat pants. And…slippers?

I raise an eyebrow at him.

Unfazed, he glances down at his feet, then at me. "What? Like I'm going to wear my loafers or oxfords with nightwear. Or was I supposed to run around barefoot like some kind of heathen?"

Tony gives my bare feet a pointed look.

"I couldn't sleep," I admit.

"Your Aunt hottie better not wake up and catch you out of bed. You'll never hear the end of it."

"I could always blame you," I joke half-heartedly. "She doesn't seem to care for you much. I think she blames you for me getting into all this."

I gesture around us.

"Don't think that one's going to work for you, kid. She and I are on very good terms at the moment."

I give him a sideways look, my brows narrowing. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Tony smirks slightly, but doesn't answer my question. "How are the shoulders?"

Ok, I am definitely making a mental note to come back to that. I go to shrug, then stop as I think better of it. "Ok. Sore."

"Bird-man definitely tore you up pretty good. The scratches on your arms were the first to heal, then your head. But the shoulder wounds were definitely the deepest."

Scratches on my arms?

"Oh. That wasn't Toomes. That was a cat."

Tony stares at me. "A cat," he deadpans.

I scratch the back of my head, my cheeks heating slightly with embarrassment. "Uh, yeah. I sort of- well, I saved a cat. From, you know, a tree."

His expression is so blank, I worry for a moment that I broke him. Then Tony straightens and cocks his head to the side as he looks me over. "Kid, you are something else."

"Uh, thank you?"

"Walk with me."

He doesn't wait for me to agree, or even turn his head to see if I'm following, just heads alongside the railing without another word. I quickly catch up, matching his leisurely pace as he takes me through the Avengers compound.

It wasn't long ago that we were doing the exact same thing, albeit under very different circumstances.

"Mr. Stark?" I venture as we turn a corner.

"Hmm?"

"W-what's going to happen? With Toomes, I mean," my stomach is tight, waiting for his answer, and my fingertips tingle, starting to go numb. I swear he can hear the thundering of my heart echoing off the walls.

It's hard not to freak out, because it's all I've been thinking about; how badly I had screwed up, how I almost got the two most important people in my life killed, and what was going to happen now. Toomes knows my identity, destroyed my apartment, nearly killed me and May, and who knows who he could be telling as I strolled along this hallway with Tony Stark?

"Adrian Toomes is going away for a very long time, in one of the most secure places in the world," Tony finally answers. "You won't have to worry about him again."

"That's not- I mean, thank you, Mr. Stark, but what about the fact that he knows who I am, and very much wants to kill me? What if he escapes again? What if he tells someone else? What if they tell _everyone_ else? What if-"

"Woah, kid, breathe for a second," Tony puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Look, I told you, you don't have to worry about Toomes again. I promise, I took care of it."

"How? I mean, what's stopping him?" I don't mean to question him, or sound ungrateful, but I have to know.

"While you were unconscious, Toomes and I had a little chat," Tony's eyes darken, and the hand on my shoulder tightens slightly. I have to hide my wince. He seems to realize it anyways, and takes his hand off as we turn another corner and enter an elevator. "I made a deal with him, made him an offer he couldn't refuse, if you will."

"And what was that?"

God, what did Tony have to give him to buy his silence? How large will my debt be to this man?

"In exchange for his silence, and his most solemn promise to never even think about you or your Aunt again, I promised to secure his family for life. Big, beautiful house, 401k for the missus, a full ride to any university of his daughter's choice, etc. If he breaks our little deal, it all goes away. You get the idea."

I stare at him, my mouth hanging open and no doubt looking completely ridiculous. "You-wow."

"I know, my generosity is astounding."

It really was. Liz could go to any university she wanted, have any career, any life she wanted. And her mom would be taken care of. It was everything Toomes had ever wanted for them, more, even. Nothing is more important to him than his family. My heartbeat slowly resumes a normal pace, and something within me eases at the news.

Liz will have a good life. She will be okay.

And Aunt May will be safe. Toomes won't come after us again, or reveal my secret to anyone.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, as the elevator doors open and we step out. Aunt May told me to stop apologizing, but with all this man had to do to fix my mistakes, to save us… "I'm so sorry for not telling you about Toomes, and that you had to do all of this. I swear, I'll make it up to you."

Tony leads me into what looks like an incredibly modern, high tech office. Even the door slides open automatically, with a female voice saying, "Welcome, boss."

"How would you do that, exactly?"

I swallow thickly. "Uh…I don't, I mean, I haven't really-"

"Calm down, kid, and take a seat," Tony plops himself onto a very cushy looking wheeled desk chair, and I sit on the other side of the thin, silver desk. I fiddle with the hem of my shirt, suddenly feeling like I am at the principal's office, about to get detention. I doubt Tony would appreciate the comparison, so I don't say anything.

Tony picks up a tablet, tapping on it a few times with deft fingers before swiping upwards, and suddenly a holographic screen lights up in the air above it. I blink at the image. It's a fully furnished apartment, the images showing the living room, the open planned kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. It's nice, nicer than our old apartment, but still homey looking, nothing extravagant.

"Well? What do you think?"

"Um, it's nice. You're moving, Mr. Stark?" I finally say, thinking that it looks like nothing the flamboyant billionaire would choose.

He rolls his eyes. "Kid, I know its early in the morning, but try to use that big brain of yours, yeah? This is the new casa de parker. So you can stop stressing about all your shortcomings and screw-ups leaving you and your aunt virtually homeless."

My mouth falls open. "I-we-you can't-"

"You really should never tell a billionaire he can't do something. It only spurs him on," Tony interrupts. "I can. I did. It's done and signed over to your aunt's name."

"Mr. Stark, you've already done so much for us. We can't-this is too much," I protest. I know he means well, but my debt to him is growing exponentially, and accepting this charity when he's saved me too many times to count…

"I told you, it's done. Already signed and sealed with your Aunt. There were lots of tears, and some slapping, which is understandable since she was slightly hysterical at the time. See? It's impossible for someone not to like me for too long."

I cringe inwardly at the mental image of Aunt May slapping Tony Stark across the face. Oh god, I am completely mortified. This isn't helping my stress levels, its worsening them. I am shaking my head. "Mr. Stark-"

"Ok, before you keep going with how unworthy you are and how immensely generous I am," Tony leans back in his chair and plays with a pen in his hands. He points it at me. "You should know, this isn't all coming for free."

Oh. My stomach sinks further. How is Aunt May going to pay him back for all this? How am I going to pay _her_ back for all this?

"It isn't?"

"Nope. Looks like your cover story isn't just a cover anymore, kid. You're officially mine, now. My intern, my lackey, my underling, you can pick. Although lackey does have a nice ring to it."

"I-what?"

Tony is smirking. "That's right, kid. You are going to be spending your weekends at my beck and call. And before you get any ideas that this is going to be some awesome, bonding, working on upgrades and technological advances with your incredible mentor sort of thing, think again. You're going to spend your days as a glorified custodian; cleaning toilets, scrubbing floors, polishing my many cars, and whatever else I feel like coming up with. Got it?"

I can't hide my grin. "Got it, Mr. Stark. Thank you, really."

"Don't thank me yet, Pete. Just wait until you see the list Happy has come up with for you."

It's a punishment, but I can't help but be relieved. I can work off what I owe him without May lifting a finger. If that means my weekends aren't spent hanging out with Ned and playing video games, but instead cleaning and working in the Avengers facility, I can live with that.

I feel my body relax, my anxiety ease. Because even though my screw ups cost the people around me, I can make it right. And I can always count on Tony Stark to help me do it.

* * *

 **Finished! I hope you guys liked this story, and please let me know what you thought! Reviews are seriously life. lol. I'm working on another story right now, but it may be awhile before I can post it, so stay tuned! I'll give you a hint though, this one may involve more Avengers. ;)**


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